


Undone

by Ladderofyears



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Operas, Squabbling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 12:36:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17662760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: Albus was having a terrific day until Scorpius managed to trick him into agreeing to attend the Wizard Opera. Now he's feeling so annoyed that they’re not even speaking, and to top it all off, he can't even find his formal shirt.Is there any hope that our favourite couple can salvage their evening?





	Undone

Wizard Opera. The Wizard-bloody-bloody-Opera. 

_If there were any two words in the whole of the English bloody language that summed up the cultural and social differences between Scorpius and himself,_ Albus decided, _he honestly had yet to hear them._

He tried to be a good boyfriend, he truly did. 

He always made the effort to read Scor’s fancy, impenetrable ‘must-read’ books, and make a comment that didn’t sound too trite. He went to the fancy restaurants, and sat around awkwardly when he’d finished his tiny potion in three bites. He’d look at some new painting that Draco had acquired for the price of his parent’s home, and hum a note of agreement when Scorpius rhapsodised about _the brave colour combinations_ , and _the emotive effect on the viewer_. To Albus, it had looked like the work of a particularly talented three year old. 

He’d dress up in uncomfortable shoes and sit through incomprehensible theatre. 

He’d walk around Muggle castles on freezing cold January afternoons, while Scorpius frowned into his guidebook and scoffed loudly at the decisions of English royalty five hundred years previously. 

Albus did all of this, and he did it willingly because Scorpius was good, and kind and lovely, and the most wonderful part of his life. But the Wizard Opera? There was nothing in their world more elitist, more straight-laced and more likely to induce a localised _Petrificus Totalus_ on his brain than a trip there. Especially one where he’d be forced to wear one of Scor’s posh suits, charmed to fit his slightly more generous proportions. 

No wonder he was annoyed. 

He and Scorpius had been snogging that afternoon, hidden under a blanket inside Scor’s walk-in wardrobe. Albus had been quite enjoying the experience, and Scorpius’ lips had felt amazing beneath his, soft and alluring. 

His long, slender fingers had slipped under Al’s tee-shirt as well, with the probable intention of tickling him into submission, but the effect had been more rather more sensual than either of them had been expecting. Scorpius had made the most delicate breathy noises into his mouth, and Albus had felt nearly overcome with desire. He’d had to rush off to the loo so as not to disgrace himself further; Scorpius having been left in no doubt as to how much he had been enjoying himself.

When he’d returned Scorpius had been fiddling with some papers on his desk. The blond git had looked a bit shifty, and Albus hadn’t been surprised when he’d announced their ‘surprise’ trip to the Opera that very evening. Albus had still been a touch confunded by lust at that point, and had readily agreed to attend. In retrospect, Albus thought he’d probably have agreed to rob Gringotts had Scorpius asked him at that precise moment but, by then, the damage was done. 

Scorpius had immediately confirmed by Patronus, leaving Albus facing a far fate worse than Azkaban: a night at the Opera. 

Draco, it seemed, was taking them as his guests but was meeting them there. He’d left earlier that afternoon to meet some Ministry colleagues for a meeting. Albus had been half-hoping for a trip back into the walk-in wardrobe but Scorpius had been far too busy in the library, researching the story of Faust, the wizard whose life their opera had was based upon. 

_Apparently,_ Scorpius had said, _the wizard had sold his soul to the Devil for unlimited knowledge and worldly pleasures._ Albus sincerely hoped Scor’s grandad wouldn’t be there, as he privately thought that story might hit a little close to home. When Scor had informed him then that the opera was in French, and close to four hours long, he’d flounced away in a temper.

The two hadn’t spoken since, which was very exasperating, for Albus seemed to have lost his one decent shirt. The last thing he wanted was to borrow even more of Scorpius’ clothes, but if it didn’t turn up soon it looked like he was going to have to. Bizarrely, when he’d tried to _Accio_ the sodding item, nothing had happened. He had another search of the items he’d thrown on the floor before his shower, and checked under his bed. It didn’t seem to be anywhere. 

“Scorpius? Have you seen my black shirt? The formal one?” he’d queried, walking into their bedroom. 

Albus could hear his boyfriend messing about with something at his dressing table, They’d been sharing a bed for most of the summer, but those fancy hair potions, and skin creams were Scor’s alone. Albus didn’t like to think about what half of them did, nor risk breaking any of those fancy bottles. “I’m sure that I left it-”

All the air suddenly left Albus’ lungs, and he found himself making a sound that was half cough, half squeak. 

_"This shirt?”_ Scorpius asked, turning from his dressing table to look at his boyfriend. “I’m sorry Al… I know I should have asked, but it I was cold after you left and there it was, right on the floor… And then I was warm, and it smelled just like your aftershave...”

The shirt in question was a quite terrible fit on Scorpius. 

_Such a skinny boy,_ thought Albus as he approached him. It was only buttoned half way, and much of Scor’s wiry white skin was on display. The sleeves were far too big, and hung loosely over Scorpius’ hands. The whole effect was pretty endearing actually, like a little boy playing dress up in one of his dad’s shirts. Of course, Scorpius was a consummate, cunning little Slytherin, and that, no doubt, was entirely the idea. The wide doe eyes and fluttering eye lids only confirmed this theory entirely.

But it wasn’t Scor’s face that was making it hard for Albus to breathe. 

The shirt really was a terrible fit, and hung down far too low, brushing against Scorpius’ flawless white thighs. His boyfriend didn’t have any trousers on beneath the shirt, and it remained to be seen whether he was wearing anything else. 

He was stood now, his hands braced against his dressing table. Stood, with that aggravating, beautiful pouting smile, and those hooded eyes that he saved entirely for Albus. Stood, wearing _his shirt_ , and looking quite the most spoilt and sexy thing he’d ever seen. 

Scorpius knew exactly how indecent he looked, and knew exactly the effect this was having on him, Albus thought. His boyfriend was positively preening under his gaze, and enjoying every moment of his attention. _Well,_ Albus decided. _He’d better give the pretty little sod exactly what he was aiming for._

Taking a step forward, Albus brushed his his hands over the black material, surprised at the heat radiating from Scor’s skin. The shirt was soft and seemed to tingle with a magic that made his fingertips prickle. Scorpius was shivering and wriggling, and as Albus worked his way downwards, he could see his boyfriends lips part slightly and see just how pink his cheeks had gotten. 

As he reached the hem of the shirt, Albus slipped his fingers underneath, and was gratified to discover only soft, satin skin. 

Scorpius, it seemed, had decided that tonight was the night he was going to make Albus lose his absolute bloody mind, and had forgone underwear altogether.

“That’s mine-” Albus all but croaked, but even he wasn’t sure whether he meant the shirt, or the body of the boy that felt so supple and smooth under his touch. Scorpius had snaked his arms around Al’s torso, and was making those rather adorable breathy sounds once more. 

This time, however, Albus was in no mood to rush off anywhere. 

“-And it’s a terrible bloody fit” Al whispered, as he attacked the last few buttons holding it together. “I think it’ll look far better on the floor”. 

***

They were, of course, terribly late to the Opera. 

Draco gave Albus the most withering of looks as they reached their seats, but for once he didn’t care. 

After all, he had the most splendid boy in the world dozing beside him. And if his shirt looked a little crumpled, well, that was nobody else’s business but his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
